The Carian language

What a surprise, there was a Carian language! 

So far, I have encountered inscriptions in the Lycian language and in Pamphylian, and even a rare bit in the language of Side but until now, Carian has eluded me. 

A chance revelation came from the Turkish site of Zero Books advertising for this new book “Kaunos Kbid 1966-2021” by Baki Öğün, Cengiz Işık (ISBN-ISSN: 9786256212046).

The front cover displays a very sharp image of a bilingual text from the 4^th century BC, written in Carian and Ancient Greek. A parallel can be made with Lycian which used the Greek alphabet but added extra letters for the sounds that do not exist in Greek. Carian applied the same rule. Useless to say that this bilingual document contributed widely to deciphering the Carian language. 

It is noteworthy that the Carian inscription does not use the Greek city’s name Kaunos or Caunos but Kbid as known by the Carian people. 

The Introduction of the book on Zero Books reads as follows: 

While the numerous inscriptions unearthed at archaeological sites throughout the Eastern Mediterranean help to understand many aspects of the ancient world and its peoples, bilingual ones (Bilingue) are very special and valuable to linguists in deciphering ancient languages and understanding their structures.
The Kaunos Bilingue, written in Carian and Ancient Greek in the 4th century BCE, made a great contribution to the understanding of the Carian language. Although the Carian alphabet superficially resembles the Ancient Greek alphabet, it differs in that some similar-looking letters take on different sounds in the language and there are a few letters specific to Carian. Moreover, the most striking part of this Bilingue, long before the use of Greek name Kaunos, is the use of the original name of the city, KBID, given to their city by the Carians, the indigenous people of Anatolia. 

More information about the unique city of Caunos can be found in my earlier blog post, The surprise of Caunos.

Greek, or not so Greek

Inscriptions in Greek are just one of many. For the layman, they are nice to see, but they add nothing to the beauty or to the specific style of a monument. The mind casually registers the Greek letters. Deciphering those ancient texts must be an exciting occupation but unfortunately limited to a select group of scholars.

Ereichteion building accounts in Greek

For obvious reasons, Greek is the vehicular language in ancient Greece and also in Ionia, the Greek colonies on the coast of Asia Minor. Once further inland and eastward, Greek becomes the lingua franca with the rise of Hellenism. We have to thank Alexander the Great for spreading the language is his wake. 

In antiquity, temple walls held the latest decrees, the agoras displayed the edict on prices, and the base of statues or tombstones left us the name of the owner. Whenever of particular interest, these Greek slabs have been removed from their location and ended up inside a museum. Often, they reside entirely out of context in a dark storage room. From time to time, a rare example is dusted off to be seen by the museum visitor. If we are lucky, their label provides us with useful information otherwise totally lost.

Those occasional displays remain problematic as I discovered recently at the Louvre in Paris. Here, a particular gallery exhibits about a dozen engraved slabs. However, unless you are a scholar or a historian thoroughly familiar with the history of the finding place, it remains impossible to appreciate their value or significance. 

Lycian inscription from Xanthos

Luckily there are interesting details that even an untrained eye can easily spot. One striking example is the Lycian language. At first sight, the letters are Greek, but on closer look, they are mixed with several un-Greek signs. The profusion of sarcophagi that are strewn all over the Lycian landscape is a valuable source of information that provides many such texts we can readily recognize. 

Pamphylian language from Sillyum

Another oddity is the Pamphylian language that was different from Greek but used the same letters. An example is, for instance, left in situ on the doorjamb of an ancient building in Sillyum. It is not easy to find but makes a fascinating reading experience, especially since it is in its proper place and keeps its full meaning.

Entirely foreign, however, are the letters used in the language of the people in Side. One such a rare transcript is displayed at the Museum of Side and worth to be noticed. I can’t help wondering how it would sound and if a Greek visitor was able to converse with a Sidian.

Sidian text

Of course, each region had (and still has) its own dialect that generally was not too foreign to Greek speakers. Macedonian, as a matter of fact, was considered as “a kind of Greek” but the texts were written in Greek – even if this was not exactly Attic Greek.

I agree that the subject of written language definitely is beyond my comfort zone but lifting a tiny corner of deciphering ancient writing is by itself very worthwhile. Even if it opens only a small window into this vast world.

The ancient city of Phaselis is sinking

It is a well-known phenomenon that the southern coast of Turkey is sinking and this can easily be seen off the coast of Andriake where tourists take tours in boats with a glass bottom to visit the remains of the sunken city of nearby Kekova. This is due to the fact the African platonic plate is pushing against and sliding over the Asian plate.

In antiquity, Phaselis was a privileged anchoring place since sailors could profit from the sheltered Southern Harbor which is generally used by today’s tourists, or the Northern Harbor which was and is accessible under all weather conditions, either by southwesterly and northeasterly winds. The Naval Harbor, in turn, was located deep inside the Northern Harbor and clearly extremely well protected. The harbor slowly silted up (see also: Phaselis and its three harbors).

Thanks to recent studies, geologists now have determined that ancient Phaselis has sunken almost two meters under today's sea level over the past 2,000 years. This is best seen at the entrance of the Northern Harbor where two islets near the entrance are all that remains of the pier that once connected the lighthouse at its far end to the mainland.

Turkey's southern coastline is slowly submerging with averages between three and nine centimeters each year. Once you know what to look for, you can easily find many examples of sunken houses and sarcophagi all along the Mediterranean from Caunos to Patara, to Simena and Side, including Phaselis.

The movement of the tectonic plates generates earthquakes which have hit the areas of Lycia and Pamphylia since antiquity. Especially catastrophic was the earthquake of 141 AD (well-documented because Opramoas of Rhodiapolis donated large sums for the reconstruction of more than thirty Lycian cities between Telmessus in the west and Phaselis in the east) and the one that occurred on the 5^th of August 240 AD when the same cities were destroyed once again.

This means that Phaselis is only one such example, but the phenomenon is worth noticing when walking among the beautiful remains of these once so proud and prosperous cities!

Alexander’s Path by Freya Stark

Alexander’s Path (ISBN 0879513403) has been on my bookshelves for many years now. The first time I read it was in preparation for my wonderful trip with Peter Sommer, In the Footsteps of Alexander the Great, the full 21-day journey (now split up into two parts). Since then, I grabbed it repeatedly when exploring Pamphylia and Lycia on my own to get those little extra details that make a journey so much more worthwhile. In a surge of melancholy and enriched by my own experiences, I decided to read it once again, cover to cover, making it a most enjoyable mental travel experience. 

What threw me off, at first, is the fact that Freya Stark goes in the opposite direction of Alexander, starting with Alexandrette (Iskenderun) and the Battle of Issus, moving through Cilicia to the great cities of Pamphylia to finally reach Lycia. She travels in the early 1950s when the landscape is not spoiled yet by the crowds of coastal hotels and modern roads, still looking very much like Alexander’s days. Her means of transportation are random, simply adapted to the circumstances: car, jeep, horse, mule, donkey, and on foot. Hotels where she could enjoy a room of her own are rare, and she often simply accepted Turkish hospitality in whatever form and with whatever comfort that may or may not offer.

It is not a dreary recitation of facts or references from ancient authors about Alexander’s march through these lands. On the contrary, she knows how to enhance her story with simple daily realities of life as it evolves: her observation of life in the village, the sound of goats and herders in the hills, her own thoughts as the day passes and the road unwinds. She observes the land with an analytical eye, constantly wondering how an army could cross it and what Alexander’s goal was at that moment in time. 

In the end, she extensively crisscrosses the rugged lands of Lycia in search of Alexander’s path, which has not reached us from ancient literature. Even Arrian, otherwise rather detailed in his descriptions, simply mentioned that Alexander moved from Xanthos through Lycia to Phaselis. Freya Stark has spent several trips exploring every single road, pass, river, and trail of Lycia looking for the most plausible route. She concluded that the Macedonian King either took the coastal road (corresponding mostly to the modern motor road) or the higher ridge via Candyba and Kassaba to Myra and hence to Limyra with another possible deviation via Arykanda to Limyra, to end at Phoenice (modern Finike). Taking advantage of the old well-travelled stony paths and donkey trails, she manages to find the best-fitted passage for Alexander to take his army across the mountain backbone. It passes under Rhodiapolis, through Corydalla (now Kumluca), and over the Yazir Pass to descend on the eastern side to Phaselis. 

It may be hard to find, but Alexander’s Path not only is a fascinating and captivating book but also a faithful and precious travel companion.

Alexander avoided the siege of Termessos

You have to see Termessos for yourself to fully assess the importance of its strategic location. Still, the place today is not easily accessible as it lies in the middle of the National Park of Güllük Dagi, which contributes widely to the sense of walking on trails of eons past.

When Alexander was about to wrap up his campaign in Pamphylia after a short while in Perge, he inquired about the best route towards Sagalassos in the north on his way to Gordion, where he was to meet up with Parmenion and the remaining part of the army.  Some uncooperative guides had advised Alexander to take the route through the narrows of Termessos, a nearly impregnable obstacle. Luckily, the people of Selge were kind enough to draw Alexander's attention to another much easier road, meaning there was no need to besiege the strongly defended Termessos. 

According to Strabo, the people of Termessos called themselves Slymi, a Pisidian population who took their name from Solymeus, an Anatolian deity. Before Alexander's arrival, very little was known about them, and after his death, the city was ruled quite quickly by the Ptolemies. By the second century BC, ties of friendship were established by Attalus II, King of Pergamon, and the two-story high Stoa was built in his honor. These ties probably led to Termessos choosing the side of Rome and consequently was declared an independent city in 71 BC – a long-lived freedom. Termessos was granted several privileges, contributing to its prosperity. The decline gradually came when it fell under the Byzantine Emperors. The city was finally destroyed by a severe earthquake, ending in its abandonment around the end of the fourth/beginning of the fifth century AD. 

Only a little has been excavated in Termessos, which contributes to its charm, although that does not make the visit any easier; on the contrary, it is quite adventurous. The paths are not very obvious and not without danger, especially in rainy weather. My Sunflower Guide warns the intrepid visitor to move cautiously under such circumstances, so I didn't venture inside alone this time. I was lucky to have visited the site during my Alexander tour with Peter Sommer a few years ago, and that has left a deep impression.

It was very early spring when I followed my fellow travelers among the lush bushes and grasses on the narrow trail. I had no idea what to expect and found it quite exciting to discover remains of city walls and grey spots in the thick, bright green undergrowth. I passed crumbling remains of the Roman Baths next to the Gymnasium and vaulted niches where once the shops lined up around the marketplace. The layout of the Temple of Zeus is hard to picture, but its two-storied walls are impressive enough. 

And then I reach the spot I have been waiting for, the gate through which Alexander was expected to enter Termessos. What a view! On a clear day, one can see as far as Antalya and the Mediterranean. It shows how strong the city's position must have been in this narrow, and they could clearly see their enemies approaching from afar. I can picture Alexander facing this siege; he certainly was not afraid. What a task that would have been! 

The following fascinating spot is, as always, the theater, originally a Greek construction that the Romans adapted to their standards. I marvel at its location, count the five gates on the stage, and chuckle at the sight of the windows in the back wall meant to let the wind through and alleviate the pressure on that wall – how ingenious! It is said that this theater can only be compared to that of Taormina in Sicily, although the Termessos theater is relatively small, seating only 4200 spectators. 

My scramble continues. At times, I have to climb on all fours over the huge building blocks, but it adds to the respect we owe to ancient architects and builders. Between the tree tops, I catch a glimpse of the Temple of Artemis (3rd century BC), walking past the back wall of the Bouleuterion, nearly ten meters high; a Heroon for an unknown hero; till I reach the comfortable Roman pavement leading to the central Agora, once the beating heart of the city where grain and fruit, as well as horses and cattle, were bought or exchanged. Another surprise awaits me here, for this is the first time I see huge 10-meter-deep water cisterns hidden underneath the pavement (it later appears to be a common practice to store water in mountainous areas). But this is quite an ingenious idea, solving the space problem in this terrain or during sieges. The Greeks who occupied Termessos before the Romans had their own cisterns in other locations, and I find one just alongside the trail I am following.

There are more remains of buildings to be found, like this one labeled as Corinthian Temple and Stoa of Attalus, two stories high, just like the Temple of Zeus I saw earlier. The Corinthian Temple takes its name from the Corinthian capitals on the outside columns. It measured some 10 x 10 meters with walls over a meter thick, making it the largest temple of Termessos. 

The site could be made more attractive to the tourists when so many of the walls are still standing, but then it would also lose part of its charm, which is to discover the buildings on your own as if you were the only one to have found them!

The very climax, however, is the Tomb of Alcetas. I was totally unprepared to see it and didn't even know who Alcetas was then. Meanwhile, I have updated my information.

Alcetas, the brother of Perdiccas, is first mentioned as one of Alexander's generals in his Indian campaign by Arrian. After Alexander's death and during the Wars of the Diadochi,  Alcetas was outlawed after murdering the Macedonian Meleandros, and he found refuge in Termessos. The city promised him protection against his Macedonian rival, Antigonus Monophthalmus. But then Antigonus showed up in front of the city with an army of 40,000 infantry, 7,000 cavalry, and numerous elephants, demanding the surrender of Alcetas. The city elders wanted to accept the request, but the young men were ready to fight. To settle the internal conflict, the elders used a ruse (promising to continue the fight) and lured the youth out of the city, so Antigonus could walk in – something Alexander had not been able to achieve.

Realizing the betrayal, Alcetas committed suicide. Antigonus Monophthalmos, as a matter of course, refused to bury him. In the end, the young men, by now filled with remorse and shame, buried poor Alcetas with full honors. Over the centuries, the front of the tomb has vanished, but the back wall still survives to this day, and this is what I am confronted with, without any preparation about the history of the picture. Well, this is quite a shock, for it is like looking at Alexander in person! The mounted warrior is dressed in a complete Macedonian outfit, holding his arm up with what may have been a sword or a spear. There is a striking resemblance between this armor and the one Alexander wore in the famous Pompeii mosaic. Unfortunately, the face has been disfigured, so no eyes are looking back at me. On the next wall, I can discern the body of an eagle with a snake in its beak, symbols of kingship. Some niches once held the burial gifts and remains of a carved-out jar for wine, grain, etc. The Macedonian shield, only recognizable around the edges, has been blasted away, but a grave stele still stands in relief against the side wall. Wow! This leaves me speechless …

Sillyum escaped to Alexander’s siege

Even in today’s landscape the trapezoidal hill of Sillyon is clearly visible in the overall flat plain of Pamphylia. I even could see it from the plane one day while taking off from Antalya airport, but of course you need to know what to look for. Driving toward Sillyon or Sillyum as it was called in antiquity, is not difficult – just take any road in the general direction, you can’t miss it.

It does not take a specialist to realize that because of its location alone, Sillyum is an impregnable fortress. The Persians had a mixed force of foreign mercenaries and native barbarians there and it was the first Pamphylian city to resists Alexander. As can be expected, the king didn’t hesitate to attack, but was not very successful. However, before he could conceive a second plan, the news reached him that the people of Aspendos had changed their mind and decided not to respect the freshly signed treaty. Catapults were immediately dismantled, the arsenal wrapped up and Alexander’s troops were summoned to march back to Aspendos. Since Sillyum had no access to the sea like Perge or Aspendos, Alexander decided that Sillyum was not worth the trouble of a siege and fell back on Perge.

The origins of Sillyum are shrouded in the mist of times, probably going back as far as the Trojan War. Very few excavations have been carried out and present conclusions are based solely on visual assessments. Sillyum’s heydays seem to have been lived during the 1st century BC when the road from Perge to Aspendos led through Sillyum as is obvious from the Peutinger roadmap (i.e. a medieval map copied from a Roman original of the fourth century). The tombs outside the city date mainly from between the 3rd and the 6th century, which makes sense when you consider that the most recent building on this hilltop is from the Byzantine era.

The remains we see today are mainly Roman but several Hellenistic features can still be found, like for instance the horseshoe-shaped court with a tower on each side built according to the same Hellenistic design as the one in Perge, and still pretty much recognizable. There are also two Hellenistic buildings, including the building in which an inscription in Pamphylian dialect still enhances the doorpost, and the meagre remains of a crumbling theatre.

I start my climb of a good 200 meters over a narrow path through the thickets on the west side, the only side that is not absolutely vertical. I’m happy to reach my first clue: a square tower that originally was part of the lower city fortification built when the people of Sillyum moved to lower grounds in order to be closer to their fields. Originally it was two stories high and curiously enough the door on the north side has a horizontal lintel while the inner door is arched.

When I reach the broad slope towards the old Roman city gate I can get my bearings. I find part of the ancient ramp – always an exciting element in any site. From here I literally have to dive into the shrubbery through a low doorway leading to a dark space. Once my eyes are accustomed to the dim light I see four cows that found refuge in this cool room to ruminate. I’m not too happy with this crowded reception and just hope I won’t step into any cow dung. All goes well and I’m glad to be back in broad daylight again. I’m now walking through the Roman Baths with rounded walls that held the vaulted ceilings and I even recognize the square windows of the solarium.

Slightly lower there is a small fountain still pouring out cool spring water for the thirsty traveller on a hot summery day. In the grass a fallen base proudly shows its Greek inscription – well, I suppose it is Greek for at least the letters are Greek. It may well be an inscription in Pamphylian for I have read in George Bean’s book “Turkey’s Southern Shore” that there must be some rare Pamphylian writing around here. I have no way to figure this out.

It is only when I find the inscription in the doorway that matches the photograph in George Bean’s book that I know that I am looking at something Pamphylian, a local dialect related to Greek and quite different from the language written and spoken in Side. Although this inscription uses Greek letters and runs over 37 lines it is not being understood, except for a few loose words, like the name Selyviios. By the year 100 BC the Pamphylian language has completely disappeared to be replaced by Greek that is by then generally spoken in the area. In any case, I feel privileged to have seen this inscription with my own eyes. Said doorway is part of a Hellenistic building with richly decorated frames around the windows and doors, probably dating from around 200 BC. The bushes are much too dense to make any sense of this construction or even to take a decent look at it from a distance.

Another yet larger Byzantine building stands next to it with its impressive 55 meters-long western wall, reaching a height of six meters. It counts ten windows, strangely enough all of different sizes.

There are plenty of trails and tracks crossing each other and I wonder if they are created by cows and goats or by the sporadic visitor like me. I tread with care through the high grasses and low shrubs for I have now reached the “Hall of Many Cisterns”, an area cramped with pits of ancient wells. One misstep could mean a broken leg – no thank you. The marble holes still show the deep grooves from the many ropes that ran through them over the years. There is even a huge underground cistern nearly thirty meters long, of which I see the entrance but dare not enter. 

Unexpectedly I arrive at the edge of the high plateau. It looks as if there are only a few blocks lined up there and it occurs to me that it might be a wall of some kind, but when I get closer I discover them to be the upper seats of the theatre. A landslide in the spring of 1969 took most of the theatre away including its stage and the Odeon next to it. All that remains are these four rows of seats. Such a pity when a theatre survives for so many centuries to disappear 2000 years later because of a landslide. The view however is breathtaking for I have an all embracing picture of the wide landscape all the way to the sea – roughly ten kilometres to the south.

I return along the Hellenistic Gate with its round towers as I have seen in Perge and Side, once part of the fortification built by the people of Sillyum when they moved their houses closer to their fields. For me this is one of the highlights of the day since it is bringing me closer to Alexander.

[Click here to see all the pictures of Sillyum]

Aspendos, the unfaithful

It seems that the people of Aspendos were not too happy with their Persian ruler, for when, in 333 BC, they heard that Alexander the Great was on his way, they set out to greet him and surrendered their city on the sole condition that Alexander would not leave a Macedonian garrison behind. Alexander agreed but demanded payment of fifty talents and the same number of horses as they usually delivered to the Persian King.

Once this agreement was reached, Alexander moved onward to Side and from there westwards to Sillyum, which resisted. While he was in full siege, he was informed that Aspendos had no intention at all to keep their promises. They had called their citizens inside the city walls, and the gates were slammed in the face of Alexander’s ambassadors. The city was bracing itself for an attack. They evidently underestimated Alexander and never expected him to show up in person or so quickly – most probably in a great state.

Entirely surprised and totally bewildered by their opponent’s quick action, Aspendos was forced to ratify the previously made agreement and promised solemnly to pay the fifty talents they had agreed on before. Alexander was smart enough to accept this gesture of goodwill because the city was a strongly defended fortress that could withstand a lengthy siege. But he claimed an extra fifty talents, hostages from prominent families, and the payment of a yearly contribution to Macedonia. No kidding!

The oldest name for Aspendos is Estwediiys, a city probably founded by Mopsus around 1200 BC. As early as the fifth century BC, the city minted its own silver coins – with Side the only one in Pamphylia to do so. In the days of Alexander, Aspendos was flourishing and was best known for its horses. The Persians had the exclusive rights to these noble animals, but now it was Alexander’s turn to claim that contribution, and four thousand horses were promptly delivered to his army – quite a stock, I would say.

After Alexander’s death, Aspendos was taken in turn by the Seleucids and the Egyptian Ptolemies, and in the 3rd century AD, it became the third city of Pamphylia. Under the Roman Emperors, it was an important trade center for salt that was collected from the nearby Lake Capria, which, according to Strabo, dried up in summer, enabling an easy harvest. The commerce of wine and horses also flourished till the city finally shared the same ill fate as its neighbors. The Byzantine Emperors organized and reorganized Asia Minor time and again, joining Lycia to Pamphylia and separating it again in the end, allowing each to be an independent province. Later, we find the Arabs’ and the Crusaders’ conquests till the area was absorbed by the Ottoman Empire.

Nothing much is left to see of the old harbor of Aspendos. There is the Seljuk bridge over the Eurymedon River (now Köprü River), which is said to rest on old Roman foundations. You have to be very alert after leaving the D400 towards Aspendos to notice this bridge on your right, but if you can make a halt there, it is definitely worth the visit. The bridge, restored as recently as 1996-1998, is about 225 meters long and reaches the opposite bank after a slight bend. Somehow, it reminds me of the famous bridge in Mostar, the same vault construction, but here it is repeated seven times. It is the achievement of the Seljuk Emperor Aladdin Keybatt (1219-1236), who saw the true value of this (re-)construction. You’ll easily find the Roman base in the fast-flowing water. It is as easy to imagine how, in antiquity, ships passed under this bridge (which was higher in those days) to deliver their goods in Aspendos before the harbor silted up.

The absolute highlight of Aspendos is, of course, the theater, one of the best preserved in the world. Like most of the buildings, it dates from the 2nd century AD, probably built during the rule of Marcus Aurelius. According to the inscriptions, the side entrances were mandated to architect Zenon by two brothers, Curtius Crispinus and Curtius Auspicatus. Officially, the theater offers seating for at least 20,000 visitors, but rumors have it that, at times, twice as many were crowded inside! It is quite unique to see the well-preserved stage wall, which somehow may remind the visitor of the Theatre of Herodes Atticus in Athens, but this one is in much better condition. I walk the entire width of the podium, which originally was much wider because it had a wooden extension, staring up at all the decorations, garlands, and figures around the niches framed with slender columns, and which once held statues of important citizens. Under the baldachins of what could be the second level, I discover a series of lovely faces, all different in expression and appearance. It’s like the past staring back at me. In the middle of this back wall, a relief of Dionysus fills the triangle of a pediment. On a previous visit, the entire stage was hidden because the theatre was still used for performances, now luckily forbidden. So these details are quite a revelation!

This theater is definitely Roman, a perfect half-circle with a wide gutter at the feet of the lowest row of seats that could be filled with water to enhance the acoustics. I wonder about the need for increased acoustic effect, for I’m deafened by the cacophony of people of all nationalities and several busloads of children from local schools. I climb the stairs to the diazoma, the walkway separating the lower and upper parts of the theater, and from here, the staircases are doubled. It’s lovely to visit the connecting corridors in the back, which only served to support the construction and had no specific function – still in such good condition. Back in the blazing sunlight, I have an entirely different look at the stage wall as some of the features are now at eye level. I can clearly see the holes that once served to hold the wooden beams for the roof, which covered the stage only and were meant to enhance the acoustics –so clever. Higher up are other holes that could hold the wooden poles used to fix the awning, which protected the theater-goers from rain and sun. How dare we think that we invented the notion of comfort! Another exceptional feature is the stylish porticus that crowns the upper rows behind the very last seats, which usually doesn’t survive in these ancient theaters. I walk underneath arches in near-perfect condition along a closed wall to the outside, while on the inside, the walkway opens into the theater. Marble blocks and columns frame the separation between one arch and the next. About three of such arches have been carefully restored and blend in entirely with the surviving parts. It does not take a lot of imagination to taste the atmosphere that must have reigned here with so many Roman sandals scraping the pavement.

I also venture inside one of the corner towers that frame the podium. The basement was generally used as a foyer for the audience, but the meaning of the staircase above it is not known. This is, however, a magnificent example of how the Romans built their staircases. In the very center of this tower, a square pillar was constructed, and all they had to do was to fit a large slab of stone, one for each step, resting on the outside wall and on the central column. It is so simple, yet you have to come up with the idea, of course. The outside walls of the right-hand tower still hold traces of painted plaster of white and red lozenges, I suppose from Byzantine times or maybe even from the Middle Ages. Anyway, a clear sign that the theater was used for a pretty long time.

Next to these towers, above an arched entrance, I find a “royal loge.” I wonder about the exclusivity of this seating because it only offers a sideways view of the stage.

All in all, this is a magnificent construction used till recently when summer opera festivals or performances of The Fire of Anatolia were performed here – now moved to a new theater in Roman style built outside the town. A good alternative to spare this unique antique site.

For most visitors, this is where their visit ends, but I venture into the antique city over a path that starts between the theater and the toilets. I walk over a paved road near one of the city gates, where the city’s sewage is covered with broad flat slabs. Occasionally, one such slab is missing, but that makes it even more exciting because spots like these offer an inside view. I estimate the cavity at about 1x1 meters - a sewage system that will not easily clog up!

On the left, I feel the shade of the large Basilica, the center of commerce that originally was more than 90 meters long. Only the walls’ foundations have been preserved, but they allow a good estimate of the dimensions. The part I see from my path is only an annex, but definitely a sturdy one with walls 15 meters high and almost two meters thick. Next stands an Odeon, which is, according to my map, but because of the high overgrowth, I cannot see it – such a shame, but inevitable, I suppose. On the other hand, I can access the 15-meter-high Nymphaeum in front, but it has lost most of its decorations, and it takes quite a fertile imagination to picture this fountain in full glory. For those who have seen the Nymphaeums of Side, Perge, or Sagalassos, mental reconstruction is much easier. It now appears as a mere wall, although 37 meters long and 1,8 meters thick – not bad. The Basilica wall runs at the right angle with this Nymphaeum, and in between, we should picture the Agora, now entirely overgrown also. The two-storied shops on the opposite side of the Agora are, however, clearly visible.

After the Agora, I can stare into the depths towards the gate through which Alexander entered the city. I scramble down, and to my great surprise, I discover that this gate also was round, exactly what I had seen in Perge and in Sillyum. I probably read that somewhere, of course, but seeing it with my own eyes is another ballgame altogether. Inside the curves, I can still see the niches that once must have held important statues – quite plushy in those days. There are more remains of the Roman city wall between the trees further down the slope. The archaeologists still have work to do if they want to.

I get back to the top of the plateau and walk to the edge to admire the other attraction of Aspendos, its famous aqueduct that spans the entire once swampy valley. This is an ideal spot for a good overview of the entire project, but of course, I’ll visit the remains afterward.

Returning to my steps, I encounter a panel pointing to a “temple hill.” I have no idea what this means, and decide to follow the general direction. At the top of the low hill, I do indeed find remains that seem to refer to a temple, but these are mere foundations. Yet the view from here, now on the other side of the high plateau, is worth the detour. The Basilica behind me commands the picture like a medieval fortress in front of which I can now clearly see the Odeon. Higher up lies the Nymphaeum I passed earlier, with the shops belonging to the Agora to its right. Behind me, way down in the valley, I discover the outlines of the Stadium, and I decide to explore it. Without this eagle’s view, I would never have found the vaults that carried the seating area among the exuberant, blossoming trees and luscious bushes. The east side seems to be the best-preserved part, but it is hard to get proper bearings, although I am sure this Stadium can’t beat the one of Perge.

Time to turn my attention to the Aqueduct, a masterpiece of Roman architecture that can only compete with the Pont du Gard in France and the Aqueduct of Volubilis in Morocco, however much less dramatic. According to an inscription from the second century AD, a certain Tiberius Claudius Italicus presented it to Aspendos for the astronomical amount of two million denarii! Expensive water …

The water had to come from the other side of the valley, and the aqueduct is a most impressive work of art and still a most impressive ruin in the landscape. The inverted siphon of this aqueduct was 1670 meters long and carried the water from two different springs at respectively 400m and 550m height all the way across the valley to the acropolis of Aspendos situated at an altitude of 60 meters. This inverted siphon is unique because of its excellent state of preservation, using three “venter bridges.” For the technical explanation of these bridges, I quote Wikipedia: “Where particularly deep or lengthy depressions had to be crossed, inverted siphons could be used instead; here, the conduit terminated in a header tank which fed the water into pipes. These crossed the valley at lower level, supported by a low "venter" bridge, rose to a receiving tank at a slightly lower elevation and discharged into another conduit; the overall gradient was maintained. Siphon pipes were usually made of soldered lead, sometimes reinforced by concrete encasements or stone sleeves. Less often, the pipes themselves were stone or ceramic, jointed as male-female and sealed with lead.” In the case of Aspendos, the pipes consisted of 3400 blocks of limestone that were sealed together with a mixture of lime and olive oil that expanded when wet. There are still plenty of these pipes lying around at the feet of the aqueduct, enough to kindle your imagination. At each end of the valley, we can still see the thirty-meter-high tower (without a roof) in which the water would settle down and re-oxygenate itself before flowing onward. Today, a motor road runs underneath each tower, making a close look very tempting and highly rewarding. 

By the time I wrap up my inspection tour, the sun is setting. The entire valley is set afire with this natural floodlight, and I feel privileged as if the performance is for me alone. I’m certain the Romans would never understand my exaltation for these two-thousand-year-old ruins!